


OutStanding in His Field

by TimTheToaster (tabletoptime)



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Crane can't help being a little spooky its his default state, Gen, Gift Fic, Happy Birthday V!!, but it was what was working in this 'verse so here it is, i can admit this wasnt a relationship i had ever thought about writing, i know 0.2 things about chemistry please be gentle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:27:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27793801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabletoptime/pseuds/TimTheToaster
Summary: Tim had definitely not meant for any of this to happen.So he'd basically been minding his own business, creeping around some warehouses that seemed shady enough he thought Batman might have business in the area, when he had heard the swearing.Was this person ranting about... chemistry?Or, did you hear about the Scarecrow who won an award?
Relationships: Tim Drake & Jonathon Crane
Comments: 8
Kudos: 139





	OutStanding in His Field

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ReplacementRobin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReplacementRobin/gifts).



Tim had definitely not meant for any of this to happen.

It's not like he had been _looking_ for trouble tonight, he was just looking for Batman and Robin! And maybe Catwoman if he could spot her, as every time he had seen since the Vase Incident she gave him a little wave and he couldn't help being giddy with the knowledge that a real-live superhero (sort of) was waving to _him._

So he'd basically been minding his own business, creeping around some warehouses that seemed shady enough he thought Batman might have business in the area, when he had heard the swearing.

It was kind of a lot. If Mrs. Mac had heard him say _any_ of those words, she would wash his mouth out with soap. Tim could barely imagine what she would do if he repeated the whole tirade. Bleach maybe?

Tim had nearly resolved to ignore the whole thing when suddenly a bunch of familiar words interrupted the curse words.

Was this person ranting about... chemistry?

Now Tim knew he was no expert, but he _had_ watched just about every chemistry video he could find over the summer when his parents got him a university textbook instead of sending him to the science camp he had requested. As such, Tim could sort of follow the train of logic here, even if the person kept mentioning compounds he was unfamiliar with.

A solution of lead two bromide was probably just made with lead and bromide salts in water, right?

From what Tim could tell, this guy was having issues getting something to stay in an aqueous form? Maybe?

Tim really didn't mean to intrude, but he was pretty sure whoever this was had just supersaturated his solution with lead here. It was such an e _asy_ fix, surely it'd be okay if he just... dropped in and let him know?

Somewhere in the back of Tim's head, he knew this was a bad idea. A monumentally bad idea, really. This guy was probably making drugs or something and Tim should _absolutely_ _not_ help him in any way.

But it was so simple, and the poor guy sounded so frustrated. And a little bit manic, like he hadn't slept in a while. That was probably why he had made such a simple error in the first place, honestly. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too embarrassed about the mistake.

Tim would just help him out a little, so he could sleep and stop swearing.

Deciding it was best to start with a good first impression, Tim crept up to the slightly ajar warehouse door, straightened the edges of his jacket, and tucked his camera under a mouldy box. If this was a drugs thing, the camera would probably aggravate the sweary chemist.

Resolutely, and firmly ignoring the slight tremble in his hand, Tim knocked on the edge of the door frame.

" _What?_ " the voice snapped, clearly irritated at the interruption.

"Hello, Mister..." Tim peeked his head in the room, not quite ready to commit to going in after that-

Oh dear, oh bother, it was Scarecrow.

His weird scary bag-mask-thing was in place (the part of Tim that wasn't busy resisting the urge to scream had to wonder if that mask qualified as proper protective equipment or not), and it jerked sharply to look at him as he spoke.

Too late to back out now. Even little kids knew that to show Scarecrow fear was basically _asking_ for him to do weird awful science to you.

Tim stepped into the warehouse, tucking his hands into his pockets and forming them into fists so Scarecrow couldn't see any sign of weakness.

"Hello Doctor Crane," Tim corrected himself. Respect was important. If you didn't respect someone, how would you ever get them to respect you? And if they didn't respect you, how would you keep them from strapping you to a table and showing you your worst nightmares? "I was just passing by, and I couldn't help hearing that you were having some trouble with keeping a compound aqueous. Lead two bromide, I believe? you were saying I think I know what's wrong."

As Tim spoke, Scarecrow moved away from his elaborate chemistry array, audibly sliding a rusty sickle off of the edge of it, and stalked slowly towards Tim. At the mention of a mistake, his free hand scratched along the blade, letting off a _horrible_ sound as some of the rust flaked away and stained his fingertips. His head was canted at an angle, like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

Tim couldn't quite believe he was doing this either.

"Oh? And what exactly do you think I did wrong?" he asked, voice dry and cracking in a way it hadn't been before. Tim tried to hold onto that fact, to remind himself Scarecrow was _trying_ to scare him.

That didn't stop it from working, just a little.

Tim's mouth was so dry, but he was terrified that if he swallowed Scarecrow would see it and then he would _know,_ so instead he attempted a smile, like Robin would have done if he were here. "Well I know it can be hard to take breaks when you're working on something you really care about, but I think you must be really tired because I'm pretty sure you just supersaturated your solution with lead so nothing is dissolving at all, Doctor Crane sir. So if you adjust your volumes properly, I think you just need to add a little more water and bromide and it should balance out properly."

Scarecrows was eerily silent, the only noise being his fingers tapping rhythmically along the edge of his sickle. Tim tried not to let it bother him, but he was also fairly sure if he didn't do _something_ soon he was going to explode. Or possibly implode. Or maybe cry.

And then Scarecrow turned back to his work, sickle in hand, and made the necessary adjustments. He placed the solution in a centrifuge and turned it on. Tim couldn’t be sure whether to watch the man or the spinning vial. 

What if he had been wrong?

Finally, the spinning stopped, and Scarecrow plucked the vial free. He held it up to his mask and flicked it, once. Twice. 

And then he carefully set it back into the test tube stand.

"What do you know of chemistry, boy?" Scarecrow asked, still raspy and hoarse but Tim could sort of hear what he was pretty sure was curiosity in there.

"Well," Tim began hands clenching and unclenching in his pockets. He had a can of dog repellent he had convinced his parents to get him after feigning tears over a neighborhood dog, but Tim doubted it would get through that mask. "I took an interest in it over the summer, and ended up doing some reading. It's fun, when it's not for marks."

Oh god he was coming closer.

Tim desperately wanted to turn tail and run, he could do it, he might even make it if he was tricky, but before he could shuck off the flimsy facade of calm, Scarecrow was in front of him, reaching out.

One rust-stained finger pressed beneath his chin, tilting his face up until he had no choice but to look that mask in its eyes. They were so dark, so deep, like pits in the canvas, and the strange tubing at the base of the mask reflected light upwards that they swallowed down.

A shudder forced its way down Tim's spine, his muscles locking in its wake. The jig was up. Scarecrow was going to do something horrible to him and he'd die here scared out of his mind and his parents would never know and no one would ever find his camera under that stupid box, or worse they _would_ and they'd use those pictures against Batman and Robin and it would be all Tim's fault and he was going to _die-_

"Would you like to learn more?"

What?

"The education system is flawed from top to bottom, stifling scientific minds and clinging to silly principles rather than allowing for progress," Scarecrow's voice hadn't lost the dry drag, but there was a fire there that Tim hadn't heard before. He cared about this. "However, I have no interest in ever marking a dimwitted undergraduate's paper ever again, let alone that of a child, albeit a clever one. If you wish to learn as learning is _meant_ to be, I am willing to discuss my work as it happens and if you prove capable you may one day be able to assist me. And if you prove _in_ capable, well."

A rasping chuckle that chilled Tim to the bone. "I'm sure you can assist me just as well in other ways."

"Are you... offering me an internship?" Tim asked hesitantly, staring into those pits and not daring to blink. How could Scarecrow even see through so much blackness?

Another laugh, louder, more unhinged this time and that finger was now three and they were _gripping him._ Tim couldn't stop the involuntary gasp but he kept his eyes open and Scarecrow hummed.

Tim hoped it was an approving sound, but he could barely hear it over his own heartbeat.

His fingers tightened further and Tim felt his skin split beneath Scarecrow's nails. He twitched, but otherwise remained still.

"I am offering you a lab position, little scientist, and if you prove worth the effort perhaps a residency."

Now Tim could admit he hadn't put all that much effort into understanding scientific hierarchies, but he was pretty sure someone was supposed to be an intern _before_ a lab assistant. Tim wasn’t even sure what a residency _was_.

He’d like to say no. Tim was pretty sure saying no wasn’t something he was allowed to do.

Maybe he could call it an internship and put it on a resume?

But when would he have the time?

Tim frowned, still unable to look away from Scarecrow’s not-eyes. “I still have to go to school and stuff. My parents will get in trouble otherwise. I can come after school sometimes?”

Scarecrow scoffed, finally releasing Tim and turning back to his table. “That will have to do for now. Until I can do something more permanent about the school system.”

Well that was a horrifying idea. Tim would probably have nightmares about Scarecrow storming into his science class to murder his teacher.

“I move labs periodically, so you will have to prove yourself before then. I will ensure the lab will be ready for you on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Don’t be late. Now,” Scarecrow looked up, and TIm tried his hardest to look excited and not terrified. “Take a seat, and watch closely. I may speak aloud sometimes, but the onus of learning is on you. And for god’s sake, be _quiet_.”

Mutely, Tim hopped up on a stool, just out of arms’ reach. Apparently he was going to have to learn what the heck was even going on here if he didn’t want to end up a lab experiment himself.

Except, maybe he could actually learn something here? At the very least, Scarecrow _was_ a doctor and he clearly knew a lot about chemistry. Maybe Tim could run his homework by him? After, you know, proving he wasn’t an idiot who would be more useful as a test subject, of course. If he was careful about how he phrased things, he might even be able to impress his parents with something he could learn here.

Slipping his hands beneath him, Tim leaned forward to get a better view of the workspace.

Scarecrow started speaking, mostly abandoning the rasp in favour of something more like what the cursing earlier had sounded like. “Now, you’re clearly familiar with solubility tables, but what I doubt anyone has bothered to tell you about solutions is their behaviour when it comes time to aersolize them…”

As long as Tim played his cards right, this could end up being actually kind of cool.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!! This is a birthday fic for a very near (emotionally not literally we'd have to put in some real effort to get farther away) and dear friend of mine ReplacementRobin! We've now known each other for over a year, and she has been an absolutely vital part of me joining the Bat-writing community. More importantly, she's been one hell of a friend. So thank you so much and I'm so glad we met!!
> 
> On the fic, this is set in a 'verse we've talked about in the past, but neither of us have really written for outside of screaming discord rants. Maybe there'll be more to come, who knows. Also, I didn't take chem in high school so the stuff here is both very basic and the result of some anxious googling. Please be kind lol
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading, and have not lost all faith in Tim's survival instincts (I'm not actually sure he even has any anymore?), and that you all have a wonderful day! <3


End file.
